Not long now, on Sunday in fact, I shall be reduced to a dribbling, salt encrusted, feeble elderly gent. Not a pretty picture at all is it? And while, to a degree, I am the author of my own misery, it will be the oxen in my team that will crack me.
Other than my impending doom, I have had much to enjoy. My health has returned, I am no longer a wraith (alright, a corpulent one at that), I have been out and ridden happily and hard, I still have no climbing legs to speak of, but I do have grunt on the flat. I enjoyed a spectacular day out on the water on Sunday, in the midst of a bird tornado, with dolphins as companions.
All fitting stuff to hold as I rattle and slobber my way around the course of misery that is the Race of Six Friends. For the inaugural event of it's kind in Auckland it's got off to a ripping start, with great interest, a field that is twice the size of what was originally considered, and a fair bit of banter and ribbing going on. I am now hopeful that expectations are met, and that round two can be staged.
It will be interesting to see what gear turns up, and is ridden, on the day. I imagine there will be everything from the blindly optimistic to the belt, braces and kitchen sink. There may even be doubled wrapped bars. I was tempted to haul out my Continental Competition Pro Tection 25mm Tubulars for the day, until I went to lift the wheelset and remembered that they may be tough and a gorgeous ride, but they weigh on the wrong side of hippodom to be much fun on a course that does have a few little bergs in it. One day they will get another outing in anger.
Let's start thinking Lord Tennyson, although we are 480 short of his number.
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